


You Crashed to Earth (and Into My Heart)

by TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alien Character(s), Aliens, Alternate Universe, Clint has a family and a farm, Darcy is an alien, Darcy is an anthropologist as well as an alien, F/F, Femslash, Music from the 1980s, Natasha has a cat, Roadtrip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-16 00:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7244296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel/pseuds/TardisIsTheOnlyWayToTravel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Natasha was simply driving home from her foster-brother's farm on a dark, rainy night. She didn't expect to run into a visitor from another planet - an alien named Darcy.</p><p>She <i>definitely</i> didn't expect to fall in love with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Crashed to Earth (and Into My Heart)

** You Crashed to Earth (and Into My Heart) **

It was a dark, rainy night, and Natasha’s car was the only one on the road, the only light emanating from the pale sliver of the moon in the sky, and the bright beams of the car headlights.

Natasha had spent the day visiting her foster-brother, Clint. The two of them had spent several years in the same foster home:  Clint, the boy who had run away to join the circus before Child Services had caught up with him, and Natasha, the Russian-immigrant-turned-American citizen, who had lost both her parents to a car accident before her accent had even had time to wear away. Neither had any family to speak of: Clint’s older brother had been a hot mess who had no business raising a child, and if Natasha had had any remaining relatives in Russia, she’d never been told about them. 

Clint had been a little shit at that age, and Natasha had been worse, but… they’d found a kindred spirit in one another, and even after they’d been moved on to separate foster homes they kept in touch, thinking of each other as brother and sister. Perhaps not in blood, but then, that wasn’t the only kind of family.

Clint was married, these days, with two kids: he owned a farm, of all things, and seemed to be perfectly happy living the peaceful country life. Sometimes Natasha envied him. Clint might have his demons, but for the most part, he was content. Natasha wished that she could say the same.

She’d never settled down, in either her relationship or her career: the relationships didn’t last all that long – the longest had been eighteen months – and she never stayed at any job more than a few years. Natasha felt restless, almost uncomfortable in her own skin sometimes, and partners who didn’t understand and jobs that weren’t fulfilling didn’t help at all. Contentment seemed very far away.

Still, she enjoyed seeing Clint happy, and as she drove back towards the nearest town, Natasha’s mood was lighter than it usually was. She had the radio on, switched to what seemed to be a golden oldies channel; so far every song that had played had been rock music of at least thirty years old, and usually considerably older.

Natasha hummed along with the music, keeping her eyes glued to what little she could see of the road ahead.

_ “I never meant to be so bad to you/One thing I said that I would never do/A look from you and I would fall from grace…” _

There was no warning for what came next. One minute the world was dark but from the brightness thrown from the car headlights: the next the entire horizon was lit with light, bright and absolutely blinding.

The blinding light vanished, but Natasha’s dazzled eyes could barely see in the sudden darkness. There was a moment of blind, bewildered confusion, a sudden silhouette in the road ahead, made visible by the car headlights – and Natasha slammed on the brakes, but too late. There was a _thump_ as the car hit the figure in the road, the brakes squealing in protest, and several more thumps as whatever the car had hit was flung over the top of the car. Natasha was swearing as the car finally came to a stop. She had a horrible feeling she might have just hit a person.

“What kind of idiot stands in the middle of the road on a dark, rainy night, anyway?” Natasha muttered, grabbing the flashlight she always kept in the glovebox, and opening the car door. The rain poured down as soon as Natasha stepped out, but she ignored the downpour, shutting the car door, switching on the flashlight and, walking back along the road.

The beam of light from the flashlight hit a person, sitting in the middle of the road. They glanced around at the sudden light, squinting, and Natasha found herself looking at a pale, pretty face surrounded by dark hair than hung in long, wet hanks. 

The girl on the ground blinked up at Natasha, looking a little stunned, and said, “Wow, okay. That wasn’t what I expected to happen.”

As Natasha watched, the girl got to her feet, apparently none the worse for wear despite the fact that Natasha had _hit her with her car_.

The music from the radio was still playing, barely audible against the hammering of the rain. It added a strangely upbeat soundtrack to the scene.

_ “It was the heat of the moment/Heat of the moment/The heat of the moment…” _

“Are you okay?” Natasha asked, feeling uneasy, and acutely conscious of the fact that there was no one else around for miles: just her and the girl, standing in the rain.

“I’m fine,” said the girl. “Pretty wet, though. Also, I have no idea where I am. This isn’t where I meant to end up.”

“How are you fine?” Natasha asked. “I hit you with my car.”

“It’s a long story. Listen,” said the girl, “how about you give me a lift to the nearest town, and I answer your questions on the way? I’d really like to get out of this rain.”

Since Natasha’s clothes were soaked through by now, and she was wet and cold, she had to admit that this seemed like a reasonable request. She didn’t normally give lifts to strangers, but on the other hand, it seemed cruel to leave someone stranded in the rain in the middle of nowhere – even if the circumstances were weird as hell.

“Fine,” said Natasha. “Get in the car.”

The girl immediately grinned, the expression clearly visible by the light of the flashlight, and jogged back towards Natasha’s car. Natasha headed back towards the car in a hurry, opening the driver’s side door and climbing inside, shutting the door behind her. The engine was still running, and she turned it off. The radio went silent.

There was a slam from the passenger side as the girl did the same, turning to smile at Natasha. Up close, she was remarkably pretty, and seemed pretty cheerful for someone who was dripping wet and had just been hit by a car.

“So this is a car,” the girl announced. “That’s pretty cool. You know, I’ve always wanted to be in one of these?”

Her statement, combined with the wide, thrilled smile, made the hairs on the back of Natasha’s neck rise.

“Who _are_ you?” Natasha asked. “Where did you come from?” She held onto the flashlight tightly, ready to use it as a weapon if necessary.

“Call me Darcy,” said the girl. “That’s not actually my name, but it’s about as close as you can get with human vocal cords. As for where I came from…” she hesitated for a second. “I probably shouldn’t tell you, but you seem nice. I mean, you let me get in your car, that’s a nice thing to do, right? Plenty of people don’t let strangers in their car. And I seriously doubt you’re the kind of person who goes around murdering hitchhikers. Although if you are, I warn you, I’m fully capable of defending myself. Anyway, the truth is, I’m an alien,” the girl finally finished, and waited for Natasha’s response.

“You’re an alien.”

“Yup.”

“You look human enough.” Natasha’s voice was flat.

“I know, right?” The girl beamed, taking Natasha’s words as a compliment. “It took me ages to create this body, but I think it worked out really well.” She looked down at herself, her expression pleased.

Natasha normally wouldn’t have believed someone who told her that they were an alien, but all her instincts were screaming warnings at her, and then there were the peculiar circumstances which surrounded the girl’s appearance.

“You’re an alien,” Natasha said, and found that she believed it, in spite of her opinions of people who believed in aliens.

“Yeah.” The alien – Darcy – peered at Natasha. “You’re not going to freak out, are you?”

“I never freak out,” said Natasha, even though her emotions were considering making an exception, just this once. Natasha took a deep breath. “Why are you here?”

“Research!” Darcy said brightly. “I’m basically what you’d call an anthropologist. Only for aliens? So like, a xenoanthropologist, if I’ve gotten my terminology right. I’ve studied all your TV broadcasts and tapped into your internet, but there’s only so much you can learn about a society from their media. So I applied for a research grant, and hey, they gave it to me, and then I applied to the government for a license to visit Earth, and I got that too! So here I am, ready to study humans.”

Natasha absorbed that. 

“You needed a license to visit Earth?” she found herself asking.

“Sure,” said Darcy. “You’re a class-three planet, which means no one’s allowed to make official contact with you until you show certain characteristics – you know, lower violence rates, global peace, interstellar travel, plus a bunch of other criteria. Basically, it means you get left alone until you’re on a more equal footing with the rest of the planets in the Federation, so that you’re less likely to be exploited by the more technologically advanced planets.”

“Oh,” said Natasha. She wasn’t sure what else to say to that. “Is there a history of that happening?”

Darcy made a face.

“Before the Federation? Yeah. It’s – look, from my understanding it’s kind of like how Europe came in and colonised a bunch of different places, usually to the detriment of the indigenous peoples? How much do you know about your history?”

“Enough to understand what you’re talking about,” said Natasha.

“Yeah. So the more technologically advanced planets used to come in, steal all the new planet’s resources, and take advantage of their peoples, usually while bringing new diseases and other pathologies with them. It was pretty bad, to be honest. It’s why the Federation has all these ethical conventions in place now, for dealing with planets that haven’t made contact with the rest of the galaxy yet.”

“I see.” Natasha stared at Darcy, but the alien’s expression was earnest and perfectly honest.

“Anyway,” Darcy added, “not to bug you or anything, but you might want to start driving, unless you want to stay here all night. Don’t get me wrong, it’s more comfortable in here than outside, but still.”

Natasha eyed the alien a moment longer, than started the car engine. The radio came back on when she did.

_ “I wear my sunglasses at night…” _

“Oh, it’s this song,” Darcy commented, as Natasha began driving again. “I never understood why the dude was wearing sunglasses at night. Like, wouldn’t that make it hard to see? Cool song, though.”

Natasha didn’t answer, too busy keeping her eyes on what she could see of the road.

Darcy settled back into her seat, and began singing along with the radio. Natasha drove in silence.

It took them another half-hour before they reached the nearest town. By this point Natasha had decided that she could keep driving tomorrow: tonight, she was staying in the nearest motel.

As the car pulled into the parking lot of the first motel Natasha spotted, she glanced at Darcy. She wondered if the alien had any money, or if Darcy would expect Natasha to pay for her.

So Natasha asked.

“Do you have the money to pay for a room?”

“Um, I think so? I always have a little trouble remembering how your currency works, but uh, I think I have enough. Plus I have a debit card connected to an account I set up before I landed, so I should be good.”

“Good,” said Natasha, parking the car. 

That should have been the end of it, but Natasha found herself glancing at Darcy. Over the course of the drive she’d relaxed a little in Darcy’s company; the alien seemed harmless enough, singing along to the songs on the radio, and now that she wasn’t on the edge of freaking out, Natasha was desperately curious to know more about Darcy and where she’d come from.

“What are you going to do next?” she asked the alien.

Darcy shrugged.

“I don’t know, head to a major city, and start from there?”

“I’ll be heading back to New York tomorrow,” Natasha said, after a moment’s deliberation. “If you want, I can give you a lift.”

“Awesome!” said Darcy. “I’d really appreciate it.” She smiled at Natasha, and Natasha’s heart skipped a beat.

“Fine,” said Natasha. “Meet me in the morning near the motel reception desk, at say, eight o’clock?”

“Great,” said Darcy.

The two of them got out of the car, and Natasha locked it, while Darcy sprinted through the rain towards the motel’s reception. Natasha followed her a moment later.

As they walked into reception, the woman at the desk looked up.

“Still raining, then?” she asked, and Natasha wondered why she bothered to ask, considering that Natasha and Darcy were both clearly drenched.

“It’s raining buckets out there,” said Darcy. “I’d like a room for the night, thanks.” She pulled a bulging wallet out of her coat pocket.

In the bright light of the motel, Natasha finally got a good look at what Darcy was wearing. She looked like any other fashionable twenty-something young woman. You wouldn’t have known from looking at her that she was from another planet.

“What?” Darcy asked, when she realised Natasha was staring.

“Nothing,” said Natasha, and Darcy shrugged, and turned back to the woman at the reception desk.

The room paid for, Darcy collected her key and smiled at Natasha.

“See you tomorrow,” she said, and turned and headed down the hallway that led to the rooms.

“I assume you want a room as well?” the woman at the desk asked. “How many nights?”

“Just tonight,” said Natasha, and paid what the woman asked for.

A moment later the woman handed her a key, and Natasha went looking for her room. It didn’t take long. Natasha let herself in, shut the door behind her, and immediately began stripping off her wet shirt and jeans, hanging them over the towel rack in the tiny ensuite bathroom. Natasha’s skin was clammy and cold, as well as wet, and she dried herself off with the towel provided. Since her hair was still wet, Natasha then draped the towel over the motel pillow before climbing under the blanket. Almost immediately she began to warm up.

As Natasha drifted off to sleep – it had been a long day, and despite having a lot to think about, Natasha was tired – her mind was full of questions about Darcy and the ‘Federation’ she’d come from.

* * *

She walked out to reception the next morning to find Darcy making small-talk with the receptionist. Darcy’s coat was folded over one arm, and underneath it Darcy had apparently been wearing a green long-sleeved shirt.

“Hey!” said Darcy, turning to greet her. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did,” said Natasha. “Once we leave here I’m planning to go the nearest discount department store to buy some new clothes. These are still damp. We can get some breakfast after that.”

“Oh, good idea,” said Darcy. “Mine are damp, too. I wasn’t looking forward to wearing them all day.” She turned to the receptionist. “Excuse me, but you wouldn’t have directions to the nearest Target, would you?” 

It turned out that the receptionist did, so Natasha listened intently as the woman gave them directions.

Darcy thanked the receptionist, and she and Natasha walked out to where Natasha’s car was parked in the parking lot, and got in as soon as Natasha unlocked it. Natasha started the engine, and turned the radio off as it came on. It was too early in the morning for _Bohemian Rhapsody_.

The nearest Target turned out to be in a shopping mall only fifteen minutes drive away, and Natasha parked the car, and she and Darcy walked inside.

Darcy looked excited at almost everything she saw.

“Is that supposed to be a dinosaur?” she asked, as they walked past the boys’ clothing department. Natasha followed her gaze to see a boys t-shirt with, yes, a dinosaur print on the front.

“It is.”

“That’s so cool,” Darcy said, smiling.

Her excitement was infectious, and Natasha found herself watching the alien, enjoying her obvious enthusiasm. Natasha had never found a visit to Target particularly interesting before, but now as she looked around, she could see how it might be fascinating to someone who had never even visited Earth before.

They made their way to the women’s clothing department, and Natasha grabbed a long-sleeved shirt and a pair of cheap jeans, and headed to the changing rooms to try them on.

“I’m just going to try these on,” she said. “I’ll meet you back outside the store in twenty minutes, okay?”

“No problem,” said Darcy, and they went their separate ways.

The shirt and the jeans fit okay, so Natasha browsed the store until it was almost time to meet Darcy, and headed for the checkout. When she got outside, Darcy was waiting.

“Check it out,” she said, and pulled something out of her shopping bag. It proved to be an iPod.

“You bought an iPod?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow. It wasn’t exactly a cheap purchase.

“Uh-huh. They told me that I can use it to listen to music,” Darcy said. “I need a computer to download the music to before I can upload it to the iPod, but I can get one of those later.” She looked at Natasha. “So, what now?”

“Now we find the mall bathrooms and get changed out of our damp clothes,” said Natasha.

Five minutes later, Natasha stood outside the women’s toilets, waiting for Darcy to emerge. Darcy showed up after about a minute longer. She was wearing jeans and a _Star Wars_ t-shirt, with a light anorak thrown over it.

Darcy followed Natasha’s gaze, looking down at the print on the front of her shirt, and grinned.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

“You like _Star Wars_?” Natasha asked.

“Sure I do. Especially its idea of technologically advanced weaponry. _Pew pew!_ ” Darcy pretended to shoot Natasha with an imaginary blaster. 

“I prefer an elegant weapon for a more civilised age,” Natasha said, making a _snap-hiss_ sound and striking a ready stance as though holding a lightsaber, if you ignored the purse and Target bag hanging off one arm.

Darcy’s face lit up, and she assumed her own pose.

“We meet again, at last,” she intoned, in a deeper voice than usual. “The circle is now complete.  When I left you, I was but a learner. Now _I_ am the master.”

“Only a master of evil, Darth,” said Natasha with appropriate solemnity, and pretended to strike at Darcy with her imaginary lightsaber. 

Darcy ‘blocked’ the blow, but couldn’t keep a straight face. She burst out laughing.

Natasha smiled in spite of herself.

“I can’t believe you know the dialogue well enough to quote it,” she said, as she and Darcy relaxed their combative poses, Darcy still laughing. “I mean, you’re not even from this planet.”

“Yeah, but _Star Wars_ was like, a formative experience in the development of modern science fiction, of course I know it well,” Darcy pointed out, as they began walking back down the length of the mall, heading towards the exit. “Besides, you can tell a lot about your society’s subconscious attitudes from the films you make.”

“For example?” Natasha asked.

“Well, to stick with _Star Wars_ , look at the  Prequel Trilogy. They make it clear that living as a moisture farmer on Tatooine is vaguely analogous to the actual historical experience of living in the American West. In that analogy the Tuskens clearly represent American indigenous peoples, and yet they’re portrayed as senselessly violent, even bestial in nature. So what does that say about American society’s attitudes towards Indigenous peoples?”

Natasha blinked, and thought about it. 

“I never actually made that connection before. That's pretty terrible." She looked at Darcy. “You seem to know a lot about Earth, for someone who’s never visited before.”

“I told you, I’ve studied your media,” said Darcy. “After a few centuries of study, you get to know a lot.”

Natasha stopped walking. Darcy took a moment to notice, then she stopped too.

“ _Centuries?_ ” Natasha repeated.

“Oh, right,” said Darcy. “Yeah, my species is longer-lived than yours. Awkward.”

“How old are you?”

“Uh, about six centuries old?” Darcy looked faintly apprehensive. “But that’s still pretty young, for my people. Like, late college-student age?”

Natasha tried to get her head around the idea of a six hundred year old college student.

“Not that I’m actually a student – I have the equivalent of a doctorate – but I’m about the same age as someone in the last stages of studying for their degree. I started my higher studies early.”

Natasha didn’t know what her face was doing, but Darcy was looking increasingly nervous. 

“I can’t believe you’re six hundred years old,” said Natasha. “How long have you been studying Earth?”

“About two hundred years?” Darcy offered.

Natasha shook her head, and began walking again.

“Unbelievable.”

“You’re cool with it though, right?” Darcy asked.

“Do I have any other option?”

“It’s just, you’re the first human I’ve ever actually met,” Darcy confessed. “And you’ve been so understanding, I don’t want to alienate you. Heh, unintentional pun. Wait, no, serious discussion, this isn’t the time to point that out. Sorry.”

Natasha couldn’t help it, she snorted.

“You just made a noise,” said Darcy. “Was that a good noise or a bad noise?” She looked hopeful.

“That was an amused noise,” Natasha said. Darcy relaxed.

“Oh, good. Because I was worried there, for a second.” 

“We must seem like mayflies to you,” said Natasha.

“What? No,” Darcy protested. “Your people are amazing. I mean, yes, you live shorter lives than we do, but culturally, as a group, humans are the fastest adaptors we’ve ever seen. It has some of the other planets worried, actually; they’re concerned that once you catch up to the rest of the galaxy, you’ll out-do us all.”

They exited the shopping mall and headed for Natasha’s car. 

“How does your Federation work?” Natasha asked.

Darcy bit her lip in thought.

“Uh, sort of like the UN, except not?” She frowned. “It’s complicated – basically there’s an overarching governmental body, except that each planet also has its own government, and there’s a lot of political tension between the different planets – even though, in principle, they’re all working together for the common good of the Federation, in reality things are a lot more…” Darcy trailed off, searching for the right word. “Splintered?”

They reached the car, and Natasha unlocked it so that they could both get in. Natasha threw her bag of damp clothing into the back seat, and after removing the box containing her iPod from her bag, Darcy did the same.

“Where are we going to get breakfast?” Darcy asked, carefully doing up her seat-belt in a way that spoke of unfamiliarity. Actually, everything about Darcy spoke of unfamiliarity: from the way she looked around at everything, taking in the sights, to the way she moved; a little clumsy, as though unaccustomed to how her body worked.

“I’ve stopped in this town before, and there’s a diner not far from here,” said Natasha, starting the engine. “You said last night that you made your body. What did you mean?”

“Oh, you’ve got to ask me the complicated questions, don’t you?” Darcy complained. “Okay. The simplest way to explain it is to say that it’s a, what’s the word, vehicle, for my consciousness. My actual body is still in my ship, which is parked further out in the solar system, and my body is basically in a state of suspended animation for as long as my consciousness inhabits this body.”

“Which you made.”

“The last time someone visited this planet they took some genetic samples – non-invasive samples,” Darcy quickly added, seeing the look on Natasha’s face. “Nothing harmful or painful, I swear. Anyway, I used some of the samples to create this body, and before you ask, no, it has no consciousness of its own. I’d explain how that works, except that none of the concepts really translate, so I’m not really sure how to.”

“It sounds complicated,” said Natasha, joining the traffic.

“Pfft, you have no idea,” said Darcy. 

The diner was only about ten minutes drive from the shopping mall, and Natasha ended up ordering a plate of pancakes with maple syrup from the breakfast menu.

“Are pancakes good?” Darcy asked. It occurred to Natasha that Darcy had probably never eaten human food before, and would have no idea what anything tasted like. 

“Order them and see,” Natasha said, with a smirk.

“Jerk,” Darcy said, but ordered the same thing as Natasha.

When their orders arrived, Natasha didn’t eat hers immediately, too busy waiting to see Darcy’s reaction.

Darcy wrapped her fingers around her knife and fork, and cut off a piece of pancake. She took a bite. 

Her eyes widened in what looked like shock.

“Holy crap, that’s really good!” She began chewing with gusto, marvelling at the taste of the pancakes and maple syrup.

Natasha smiled, and began eating her own pancakes. 

Later, on their way out of town (after Darcy also purchased a chocolate milkshake, which she seemed to enjoy as much as the pancakes) Natasha stopped at the gas station to fill up on gas. While she was there she bought a bag of snacks for the trip home, dumping them in Darcy’s lap as she got back in the car.

“What are these?” Darcy peered into the bag.

“Snacks,” Natasha answered. “Don’t eat any yet,” she added, at Darcy’s look of sudden interest. “They’re for when we get hungry on the trip back.”

“Gotcha.”  

“Also, I got you this,” Natasha added, and dropped a Darth Vader PEZ dispenser into Darcy’s lap as well. 

“It’s Darth Vader,” Darcy noted. “What’s it for? What’s a PEZ?”

So Natasha tore open the packet, showing Darcy how to fill the PEZ dispenser with PEZ candy.

“And I can eat these?” Darcy looked at the back of the packet, reading the ingredient list. “Huh. They don’t sound that healthy.”

“Nothing delicious is,” Natasha replied, and started the car engine again.

As they rejoined the traffic, Natasha turned on the radio.

_ “Marconi plays the mambo/Listen to the radio/Don’t you remember we built this city/We built this city on rock and roll…” _

“What does that even mean?” Darcy asked. “How can you build a city on rock and roll? Are they talking about a particular city?”

Natasha shrugged as she drove. 

“They mention the Golden Gate Bridge at one point, so it’s probably San Francisco.”

“I’ve seen photos of the Golden Gate Bridge online,” said Darcy. “It’d be cool to see it in person. But there’s a ton of things I’d like to see in New York, so I’m glad we’re going there.”

“If you want things to see, New York is definitely the place to go,” Natasha agreed. “You know, we should get back with plenty of time for me to show you some of the sights, if you want.”

“Really?” Darcy sent Natasha a happy smile. “That would be awesome. You don’t have to work?” 

“Not until tomorrow,” said Natasha. “It’s a Sunday.”

“And Sunday and Saturday are days a lot of people don’t have to work, in this region. Right?” Darcy looked to Natasha for confirmation.

“Right.”

“So what do you do?” Darcy gazed at Natasha with bright-eyed interest. “For work, I mean.”

“Nothing half as interesting as what you do,” Natasha deflected.

Darcy just stared at her expectantly.

“I’m not supposed to talk about what I do. Usually I tell people that I’m an office manager.”

“But you’re not?”

“No. I’m not.”

Darcy waited.

“I’m an analyst for an organisation called SHIELD,” Natasha admitted, being as honest as she could. “But I’m not telling you any more than that. It’s classified.”

“SHIELD?” Darcy repeated. “The global counter-terrorism agency?”

“You’ve heard of them?” Natasha was a little surprised. SHIELD kept a pretty low profile.

“I have access to every corner of the internet. Including the corner staked out by SHIELD – it’s easy to hack, with my technology.” Darcy looked faintly smug. “So yeah, I know what SHIELD does.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone. You’re likely to be arrested,” said Natasha.

“Oh, believe me, I know.” Darcy gave Natasha a sunny smile. “Your organisation is pretty paranoid. But then, if I had people blowing shit up everywhere or shooting people at random, I’d be kind of paranoid, too.”

Natasha wasn’t sure what to say to that, so she said nothing. After a moment, Darcy turned her head to look out the car window at the passing scenery.

It was a long drive back to New York, but Darcy didn’t seem to mind. She seemed entranced by the view on offer, and every now and again she’d make a comment or ask Natasha a question, which Natasha was usually happy to answer.

Just as they were approaching the edge of the city, the song on the radio changed to a tune that Natasha recognised instantly: she’d heard it half a dozen times, at least (mostly thanks to Clint, who liked to troll the people he cared about).

Clearly Natasha wasn’t the only one who recognised it, because Darcy brightened and said, “Oh my God, it’s the Rick Roll song! I’ve seen it all over the internet – I didn’t know people actually listened to that!”

“Neither did I,” said Natasha, but Darcy was already singing along.

“ _We’re no strangers to love, you know the rules and so do I_ ,” Darcy sang, clearly enjoying herself. So instead of turning the radio off or switching stations, Natasha tolerated the song. At least Darcy had a nice voice, she thought. She wondered suddenly what Darcy really sounded like – if she had a speaking voice at all.

Natasha asked the question.

“Yeah, we have verbal communication, same as you do,” Darcy replied. “Different vocal range, though. Why do you ask?”

“You’re an alien. For all I know, you use telepathy,” said Natasha.

Darcy laughed.

“To my knowledge, telepathy doesn’t exist. You know, that’s not even a concept anyone in the Federation _had_ , before we started monitoring your planet? It took us a while to translate the word, and when we did, half the research team freaked out because they thought that if you had the concept, that meant it had to exist somewhere on your planet. Eventually we worked out it was a made-up thing, but it scared the crap out of a whole bunch of researchers.”

Natasha smiled at that, amused.

“I’m glad we keep things interesting for you.”

“Interesting doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it, trust me,” said Darcy, so emphatically that Natasha’s smile widened. 

The rest of the drive took a while, thanks to New York traffic, but eventually Natasha turned into her street, and was lucky enough to see a park not far from her building.

As she and Darcy got out of the car, she saw Darcy looking around, taking in her surroundings.

“Come on,” said Natasha. “I’ll show you my apartment.”

“Okay,” said Darcy, and followed her.

Natasha’s apartment was only on the third floor, which meant they didn’t need to go up too many stairs. Natasha unlocked the door to her apartment and let them both in, locking the door behind Darcy as she walked inside.

“So this is an apartment,” Darcy asked, looking around. “Interesting aesthetics,” she added, looking at the framed art print on Natasha’s wall, before turning to the kitchenette area. “That’s a refrigerator… is that a microwave…?”

“It is.”

Darcy went around the apartment, either naming each item she saw or asking what it was for, and how it worked. Natasha indulged her questions, answering them honestly – if it had been someone else, maybe they would have slipped in a few wrong answers, just for laughs, but Natasha was only a little tempted to do so; she liked Darcy, and besides, if an alien civilisation’s understanding of Earth culture was based on what Darcy was learning right now, it seemed important that Darcy get everything right.

While Darcy was exploring everything, Natasha got out the ingredients for sandwiches, and made enough for her and Darcy both.

“You should eat something,” she called out to Darcy, who had disappeared down the hallway and was now somewhere in Natasha’s bedroom. “It’s not polite to explore someone’s bedroom without permission, by the way. That’s a private space.”

“Is it?” Darcy’s voice drifted back. “On TV shows they always show people just walking in.”

Natasha thought about it, and realised that Darcy was probably right.

“Probably they do it for the comedy value,” Natasha said. “Because the audience knows that the bedroom is a private space, the humour comes from the fact that one of the characters is ignoring that fact, to the detriment of another character.”

“Oh.” Darcy looked enlightened, then frowned. “It’s different when the other person is a sexual partner, though, right?”

“That’s right.” 

“Man, your social taboos are complicated,” said Darcy, walking back into in the main living area, where the dining table was. “Don’t even get me started on your sense of humour.”

“Do people in the Federation not have a sense of humour?” Natasha asked, as Darcy joined her at the dining table to eat the plate of sandwiches Natasha had made.

“Some species do, mine included,” said Darcy. “It’s not actually that dissimilar from yours, in the fundamentals; it’s just that the cultural contexts are totally different, and if you don’t understand the context, you’re never going to get the joke. So it’s tricky.”

“What’s your favourite thing about Earth’s cultures?” Natasha asked.

“Definitely your music,” said Darcy. “Music is very important in our culture, but it’s also super ritualised. I know you have specific songs for ritual events, but you also have a heap of music that you just listen to whenever, because you feel like it. I love that.”

“Is that why you bought the iPod?” 

“Uh-huh. It’s so I can listen to Earth music whenever I want. It’s such a freeing thing, to be able to do that here, without breaking any taboos.”

“I noticed you grooving along to the songs,” said Natasha.

Darcy grinned.

“You should see me groove in my true form, it’s pretty amazing, not gonna lie. Human bodies just don’t have enough limbs to groove properly.”

Natasha filed that away for further consideration, but said, “Where are you going to go after this?”

“Well, you said you’d show me around, earlier, so probably somewhere cool like the Metropolitan Museum of Art. After that… I guess I’ll find a motel somewhere, until I find an apartment to live in.”

“Or you could stay here,” Natasha said on impulse. When Darcy looked at her, Natasha pretended that she’d meant to say it all along. “I could use a roommate to help with rent and utilities. The apartment’s two-bedroom, as I’m sure you noticed.”

The bit about needing help with rent and utilities was a lie: Natasha was very well-paid, and could easily live on her own without assistance. But something about Darcy fascinated her, and she didn’t want the alien to just walk out of her life, when she barely knew her. Natasha wanted to get to know Darcy better.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt that way about a person, and almost laughed at the thought that it was an actual _alien_ making her feel that way.

“Are you sure?” Darcy asked. “I’ll try not to get in the way, but I’ve never lived among humans before, so I’m bound to make some mistakes. You won’t need the spare bedroom, or anything?”

“It’s fine. Clint can sleep on the couch next time he stays over,” said Natasha. 

“That sounds uncomfortable, but okay. Who’s Clint?”

“My brother,” said Natasha. “Don’t worry, Clint can deal with a little discomfort. This is the man who used to regularly end up in dumpsters. No one knows how,” Natasha added, before Darcy could ask. “It’s one of the great mysteries of life. All I can say is that before he met Laura – his wife – he was a mess.”

“Just to clarify: a dumpster is a large receptacle for trash, right?” said Darcy. When Natasha nodded, Darcy said, wrinkling her nose, “And no one knows why he used to end up in them?”

“Steve’s theory was that he had some enemies in the neighbourhood who sued to throw him into them,” said Natasha. “But honestly, it could be any number of implausible reasons.”

“Who’s Steve?” Darcy looked curious.

“A friend of mine,” said Natasha. “I used to date his friend, Bucky, but it didn’t work out.”

“It’s sad when that happens,” Darcy observed.

“Not really. We’re much better as friends.” 

“Good for you.” Darcy nabbed the last sandwich and ate it, continued to talk through her mouthful. “So, are you romantically or sexually involved with anyone? Wait, is that a rude question?”

“Whether it’s a rude question depends on the circumstances, and no, I’m not.”

“Do I offer condolences, or congratulations?” Darcy wondered, and Natasha snorted.

“How about neither. It’d be nice to have a boyfriend or girlfriend, but I’m perfectly fine without one.” She eyed Darcy. “Do you have a partner, back where you come from?”

“Hell no,” said Darcy. “Don’t get me wrong, I’d like one, but that would involve settling down, you know? I’m not ready to brood over hatchlings and spend all my time nesting. I like being able to go places, and my research is fascinating, so…” She shrugged, in a _‘what can you do?’_ kind of way. “Sometimes I’m a bit lonely, but it can’t be helped.”

“I’m sorry,” said Natasha.

“Don’t be,” said Darcy. “This is the life I’ve chosen, and hey, I’m still young enough to change my mind at some point, if I want to. So it’s all good.”

“I hear you,” said Natasha, who wasn’t ready to settle down, either. “Settling down is overrated.”

There was a moment of companionable silence.

“You’re going to need clothing and toiletries and things, if you’re going to stay,” said Natasha. “I can lend you a spare toothbrush for tonight, but everything else…”

“I can go shopping tomorrow, while you’re at work,” said Darcy.

“In that case, we should probably get you a Metro Card so you can use the subway; it’s the easiest way to get around,” said Natasha. “Although you’d need one anyway, if we’re going to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Tonight you should check out Google maps so that tomorrow you know how to get to where you want to go.”

Darcy nodded, having listened intently.

“Okay,” she said. “Shall we go now?”

“I don’t see why not,” said Natasha. She got up and put her plate in the dishwasher, before remembering the bag of damp clothes. She took them out of the bad and hung them over the backs of some of the dining chairs, so that they’d finish drying. 

Darcy took her own damp clothes out of her Target shopping bag, doing the same thing as Natasha had done with hers, and frowned.

“Do you have a bag I can borrow?” she asked. “All I have to carry my wallet in is this plastic bag. The pockets on my anorak aren’t big enough.”

“Sure,” said Natasha, and went down the hallway into her bedroom. She had several bags hidden away in her wardrobe, and pulled out a small backpack that she thought Darcy would find useful.

“Here,” said Natasha, returning to the living room.

“Thanks, this is perfect,” said Darcy, putting her wallet into the backpack and doing up the buckle to keep the top flap closed.

Natasha grabbed her purse, and the two of them left the apartment.

It didn’t take all that long to walk down to the nearest subway stop, where Natasha told Darcy how to buy a Metro Card, and explained how they worked. From there they took a train to the station closest to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and walked the rest of the way. 

Both of them paid the suggested entry fee to the museum, before walking around for several hours, looking at the various art pieces.

What really held Darcy spellbound, however, was a set of relatively simple, unremarkable stone tools – which were tens of thousands of years old.

“Wow,” Darcy breathed, staring at them.

Natasha looked at the tools. To her they looked like strangely-shaped rocks.

“Why ‘wow’?” Natasha asked.

Darcy turned incredulous eyes on her.

“Why ‘wow’?” she repeated. “Look at them! You have _actual artefacts_ from your earliest period of technological development! Tools like these represent a leap forward in human cognition and symbolic thought! They’re evidence of the very beginnings of human culture, and of humanity’s capacity to reason and solve intellectual problems. They haven’t been lost to the sands of time: to some far-off, unknowable period in which the development of humanity’s most characteristic traits remains a mystery – they’re _here_ , intact, in a museum, where anyone can see them! And you don’t think that’s worth a ‘wow’?”

Natasha studied the stone tools. They still looked like rocks to her.

“I think you and I see very different things when we look at them.”

Darcy shook her head, clearly unable to understand Natasha’s indifference.

“Clearly you aren’t appreciative enough of your own history, is all I’m saying.”

They stayed in the museum until closing, at which point it was beginning to get dark outside. The two of them ended up having dinner at of Natasha’s favourite restaurants, where Darcy rambled on about the amazing variety of art she’d seen that day, and how versatile humanity’s concept of art really was, while Natasha listened and ate her meal.

As she watched Darcy’s animated expression and body language, Natasha wondered if she was getting in over her head.

If she was, she didn’t care. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed an outing with someone else so much.

* * *

Natasha’s alarm went off early the next morning, and Natasha showered and dressed before wandering out to the living room. She found that Darcy was already awake and playing around with Natasha’s laptop.

Natasha had shown her how to use it the night before, and installed iTunes so that Darcy could download music for her iPod.

Peering over Darcy’s shoulder, she saw that Darcy had already downloaded a heap of music.

“You’ve been busy.”

Darcy yelped and jumped.

“Jeez, don’t scare me like that!” she said, putting a hand to her heart. “I had no idea you were even there!”

“Sorry,” Natasha said, with a smirk. “Clint always says I’m as light on my feet as a cat.”

“I’d like to meet a cat,” said Darcy, in a contemplative tone. “The internet seems to love them. I want to know what the fuss is about. I mean sure, they meet human standard of cuteness, but that can’t be all it is.”

“Cats have personality,” said Natasha, going over to the counter to make herself some instant coffee. She took a mug out of the corner cupboard, and then hesitated. “Darcy? Would you like to try some coffee? It’s only instant, but…”

“Hell yes,” Darcy declared, temporarily abandoning the laptop to walk over and watch as Natasha got down a second mug, and made two mugs of instant coffee.

Natasha slid the mug of coffee across the countertop towards Darcy, who picked it up and took a gulp before Natasha could warn her.

“ _Hot!”_ Darcy yelped, and then made a thoughtful kind of face. She took another, more careful sip. “Interesting flavour, I guess.”

“You can add milk or sugar, if you like,” said Natasha.

“Show me how?” Darcy suggested, so Natasha got out the milk and sugar and added some to Darcy’s coffee, while Darcy watched.

This time, when Darcy took a sip, she looked pleasantly surprised.

“Huh. I like it much better like this,” she said.

“Well, now you know how to make it that way.”

Natasha sat down to eat a bowl of cereal, keeping her eye on the time, and when she was done she put her bowl in the dishwasher and went to get her purse and jacket. As she was on her way down the hallway she remembered something, and doubled back to get it.

“This is the spare key to my apartment,” Natasha said, holding it up so that Darcy could see. “Don’t lose it. I’m giving it to you so you can let yourself in and out. If you go somewhere, make sure all the lights and electrical appliances are turned off before you go – except for the fridge, that stays on at all times – shut any open windows, and lock the door behind you.”

“Okay,” Darcy promised, and so Natasha handed her the key. “Have fun at work.”

“Have fun shopping. Be careful,” Natasha added, and let herself out.

Work was much the same as ever. Natasha didn’t let her mind waver from what she was doing, concentrating on her work,  but during her lunch break she wondered how Darcy was doing, and made a mental note to get her a cell phone at some point, so that Natasha could check in on her during the day. Not that Natasha was worried, exactly: Darcy seemed like she was able to take care of herself, even if she didn’t understand everything about human society. But it would have been nice to have been able to text Darcy and ask what she was up to.

As soon as Natasha finished work for the day, she headed home. 

“I’m home,” she called out as she opened the door. She was immediately hit with the sound of music.

_ “Once I ran to you/Now I’ll run from you/This tainted love you’ve given/I gave you all a boy could give you/Take my tears and that’s not nearly all…” _

Darcy looked up, and smiled at Natasha.

“Hey, you’re back!” she said, and sounded so delighted by that fact that something fragile and soft unfolded in Natasha’s heart. She ruthlessly tried to suppress it, but the fragile soft thing was there, regardless.

“Busy day?” Natasha asked, eyeing the many shopping bags that had been dumped on the floor.

“I did _so_ much shopping,” said Darcy.

“I can see that.”

“Let me show you what I bought,” Darcy added, and so Natasha put her purse down on the table and sat down on the nearest chair, so that Darcy could show her all of her new purchases.

Most of Darcy’s new possessions turned out to be clothes, but there were also a couple of pairs of shoes, some books (one of these was _The Definitive Book of Body Language_ ; the other two were romance novels, and Natasha carefully didn’t comment on the fact that one of them had clearly come from the LGBT section of the bookstore, even though she wondered about it), and a _Star Wars_ plushie.

“It just looks so cute,” said Darcy, correctly interpreting the meaning of Darcy’s raised eyebrow. “Aren’t you, BB-8?” she addressed the plushie.

“I’m not judging,” said Natasha, and excused herself to go and get changed into more comfortable clothing.

After that she began preparing dinner, while Darcy turned the TV on and jumped from channel to channel, commenting on everything she saw.

It was nice, Natasha thought. It had never occurred to her that the strange ache she got sometimes might be loneliness, but with Darcy around the ache had disappeared entirely, leaving Natasha with a warm feeling in her chest. 

With Darcy around, Natasha found that she was smiling a lot more than she had since Clint had gotten married and moved out to the country.

Halfway through cooking dinner Natasha’s phone rang, and she asked Darcy to keep an eye on the savoury mince she was cooking while she went to answer it.

“ _Hey_ ,” said Clint’s voice, on the other end of the phone. “ _I just wanted to check that you got back okay. I meant to ring yesterday, but Cooper came down with flu or something yesterday morning, so we’ve been run off our feet_.”

“I’m fine,” said Natasha, but something in her voice must have given her away, because Clint said,

“ _What’s up? You sound happy about something_.”

Natasha hesitated, uncertain, for once, of what to say.

“I’ve got a new roommate,” she finally said.

“ _You? A roommate?_ ” Clint repeated. “ _But you always hated having a roommate, even when it was me! You said you needed your own space and moved out into your own apartment_.”

“That’s because you left your socks everywhere and always left me the dirty dishes,” said Natasha, who loved Clint, but was forthright about his flaws. “And kept coming home covering in trash because you’d been in a dumpster.”

“ _I thought we agreed not to mention that period in my life_.”

“I never agreed to that,” Natasha disagreed. Clint sighed.

“ _Whatever. Tell me about the roommate. You didn’t tell me you were looking for one_.”

“It kind of came out of nowhere,” Natasha admitted. “A friend was talking about needing someplace to stay until she could find an apartment, so I offered her the spare room.”

“ _Aw, no_ ,” said Clint. “ _Where am I meant to sleep when I come to stay?_ ”

“You can sleep on the couch.”

“ _You’re the worst_ ,” Clint complained. “ _Fine. So, this woman is staying with you just until she finds an apartment?”_

“Actually, I’m hoping she’ll stay, period.”

There was a moment’s silence from Clint, and Natasha braced herself.

“ _You must really like this woman_ ,” Clint finally said. 

Natasha said nothing.

“ _Aw, Nat. Don’t tell me you’ve got a crush on her.”_

“She’s not like anyone I’ve ever met,” said Natasha. “She’s out of this world,” she added, smiling slightly.

“ _That sounds like it was some kind of joke that I’m not supposed to get. Listen, are you sure you know what you’re doing?”_

“I always know what I’m doing,” said Natasha, her voice steady.

“ _We both know that’s a lie,_ ” said Clint. A crying wail started up in the background. “ _Shit. I’ve got to go, but be careful, okay? I don’t want this woman breaking your heart_.”

“She won’t,” said Natasha, and hung up.

“Were you talking about me?” Darcy asked, not even pretending that she hadn’t been listening to Natasha’s side of the conversation.

“You know, it’s polite to pretend not to overhear someone else’s conversation, instead of blatantly listening in,” said Natasha.

“Sorry.” Darcy glanced down at the saucepan on the stove. “Maybe you should check on this? It’s sort of… bubbling.”

“It’s supposed to do that,” said Natasha, but went to check the savoury mince anyway.

They ate dinner about fifteen minutes later, and afterwards Natasha packed everything away into the dishwasher and turned it on.

“What do you usually do now?” Darcy asked. Natasha smiled.

“Come with me,” said Natasha. “There’s something you’re going to want to see.”

As Darcy watched, Natasha retrieved a plastic bowl from the bathroom, and went to one of the kitchen cupboards and got out a tin of cat food.

Natasha proceeded to climb out one of the windows, onto the fire escape landing right outside it. 

“ _Mrrrowwl?_ ” asked a tiny voice, and something rubbed against Natasha’s leg.

“It’s a cat!” said Darcy, leaning out the window to watch.

“Hello, Liho.” Natasha reached down to rub behind Liho’s ears, and the cat purred loudly.

Natasha opened the can of cat food and emptied it into the plastic bowl, putting the bowl down on the landing where Liho could get to it, and the cat rubbed against her leg again in gratitude before moving forward to eat.

Darcy moved out of the way so that Natasha could climb back through the window holding the empty can. She immediately leaned out the window again, watching Liho, while Natasha put the tin in the trash bin.

“Is it yours?” Darcy asked, staring down at the cat.

“Technically, she’s a stray,” Natasha said, washing her hands at the sink.

“A stray you’ve named and feed regularly enough that she shows up to greet you? Sounds dubious to me. Do you feed her every night?”

“When I’m home,” said Natasha. “Last night I fed her while you were in the shower, which is why you didn’t see me do it.”

Darcy watched the cat a moment longer.

“I can see the appeal,” she said aloud. “They’re really engaging animals, aren’t they?”

Natasha shrugged noncommittally as she sat down. She had a weakness for cats, but wasn’t about to say so.

“Seriously though, you realise that you and the cat belong to each other now, right?” Darcy asked, joining her on the couch. “You have a positive social relationship. That means something.”

“Maybe,” said Natasha, refusing to admit that she regarded the cat as hers. She turned the TV on, and checked to see whether her shows had recorded while she was away.

“No maybes about it,” said Darcy, but she was distracted from the argument as Natasha began playing the latest episode of _Antiques Roadshow._

“What’s this about?” Darcy asked, arranging herself comfortably by Natasha’s side. Natasha could feel the warmth radiating from Darcy’s body. 

“People bring in items for experts to appraise and give a monetary value for,” said Natasha. “It’s relaxing. No one dies or gets hurt, I don’t have to worry about following the plot because there isn’t one, and sometimes I get to see interesting objects.”

“And yet you weren’t interested in the Palaeolithic tools we saw in the museum today,” Darcy grumbled.

“You need to let that go,” Natasha told her, somewhere between irritated and amused.

Darcy huffed, but fell silent.

The two of them had been sitting in silence for a while, watching _Antiques Roadshow_ , when Natasha became aware that Darcy’s gaze was trained on her, and not the TV.

“What?” she asked, turning her head to see Darcy a little better. Their faces were very close.

Darcy leaned forward a couple of inches and kissed Natasha.

For a moment, Natasha forgot that she was dealing with an alien: all she knew was that a lovely, vivacious girl was kissing her. Then she remembered that Darcy wasn’t human, and tore herself away.

“What are you doing?” Natasha asked, making her voice hard and angry.

Darcy looked bewildered by the sudden change in Natasha’s body language.

“Kissing you, obviously,” she said. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Why would you kiss me?” That was what Natasha wanted to know.

“Because I like you, and because in this body I find you incredibly attractive,” said Darcy, matter-of-factly. “You make my heart-beat pick up when you talk to me, and I’m extremely aware of your presence whenever you’re around. But you’re also kind and entertaining and don’t mind answering all my questions, even though they must be annoying for you.”

Natasha stared at Darcy. 

“I’m sorry if I got things wrong,” Darcy said. “But some of the books in your bedroom are about women in romantic-slash-sexual relationships with one another, so I thought that you were probably into that, and with the frequency with which you smile at me I thought that you were probably attracted to me, too.”

Natasha took a deep breath, and carefully processed Darcy’s words and her own feelings before she said anything else.

“Was I wrong?” Darcy asked, looking uncertain.

“No,” said Natasha. “You weren’t.”

“So why did you get angry?” Darcy looked puzzled. “You _were_ angry, weren’t you? I interpreted your body language correctly?”

“You did. I was angry because I thought maybe you were only kissing me for research,” Natasha admitted.

She was startled – and to be honest, somewhat offended – when Darcy let out a laugh.

“Sorry,” said Darcy, seeing the look on Natasha’s face. “It’s just – I don’t need to research that, definitely. There’s more than enough footage of people kissing on the internet for me to understand how that works. Admittedly, the social dimension of kissing isn’t as well-researched as some people would like, but um, hands-on as I can be with my ethnographic research, I wouldn’t get involved with someone just for the sake of academic knowledge.” 

“Oh.” Natasha suddenly felt a lot better, even though butterflies were creeping into her stomach. “We’ve only known each other for a couple of days,” she said, instead of asking, _‘Then you really do like me?’_ which was her first impulse.

“Does that matter?” Darcy frowned. “I mean: I like you, you like me, we seem to get along, so far… is there something I’m missing?”

“I don’t like to jump into things,” said Natasha. “Least of all relationships.”

“Oh,” said Darcy, realisation dawning. “Does that mean you want to go on dates and stuff first? Because I could totally do that.” She looked hopeful.

“I – okay.” Natasha knew that she should probably be baulking at the thought of dating an alien, but… she’d never met anyone like Darcy, before, and her instincts told her that someone like her wasn’t likely to come along again, Natasha told herself, rationalising her answer. She refused to admit that the truth was that she’d already fallen for Darcy, and fallen hard.

Darcy beamed.

“Yes!” she whooped, and Natasha couldn’t help it, she laughed at Darcy’s jubilant reaction.

“Still, are you sure you don’t want to start kissing now?” Darcy asked. “If your answer is no, I will respect that, it’s just – I’d really like to kiss you, okay.”

Natasha stared at Darcy. Darcy bit her lower lip, looking a little nervous.

“Oh, what the hell,” said Natasha, and closed the short distance between the two of them.

As Darcy responded, a little clumsily but with fervour, Natasha wondered how her life had turned into a cheesy 80s sci-fi movie. If she ever told Clint the truth, Natasha knew that her brother would laugh hysterically over this. Once he got over the existence of aliens, anyway.

A moment later Natasha stopped thinking about it, and concentrated on making out with Darcy instead.

It seemed like a much better use of her time.


End file.
